Missus Claus
by JLGuyer
Summary: The braided idiot was not going to convince her. No way no how. Mrs. Claus, how horrifying.


Disclaimer: I own nothing

Missus Claus

"Just stop being your psycho self and go help the guy out."

The look of careless disdain she leveled at the braided idiot should have cut him to the quick.

Alas, Gundam pilots were made of hardy stuff far more than the average noble. Duo Maxwell merely placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward so that they were face to face.

"He barely asks anything of you, Dorothy."

The worst part of all this was the buffoon was correct. Quatre did not ask much of her. A fact that rather rankled considering how often it felt like she was asking him for something.

Forgiveness, friendship, love.

A part of her didn't want to forgive herself for asking for that last one.

Not that that stopped her from greedily lapping up every speck of affection he gave her.

Still none of this changed the fact that she had no desire to give into his whims this time.

" He wants me to play 'Mrs. Claus.' You do realize how deranged that statement is, much less me actually doing it."

"Okay, so Quatre gets some weird ideas. But he's doing this for the kids of his employees right? So just think of it as a business deal."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Dorothy raised one forked eyebrow and replied. "Impressive tactic but it's not **my** business and why are you of all people trying to convince me? Where's the clown?"

"Trowa's at work and I drew the short straw."

Dorothy couldn't help it. She laughed.

It was a short almost cackle like laugh but it was a laugh and Duo decided to take it as encouragement.

"Look you can't stand me and I can't stand you, but Quatre's my friend and you're…whatever you call him."

"Willing slave."

The wince on Duo's face was painful to behold but he pushed gamely onward. "AND he wants to spend Christmas Eve with you, being good people. So get off your high horse and pretend to be a good person for a few hours, okay? I have plans of my own you know."

"Hmm, yes and I have no doubt **she** deserves better than whatever you have planned but I concede. You have a point and I will agree to play in Quatre's little Christmas scenario."

Letting out a gusty breath of relief, Duo ran his hand through his bangs and gives her a strained smile.

"That's great, Dorothy. I'm just gonna go now, okay?"

Dorothy merely nodded acknowledgement to this comment and watched with some amusement as he scurried away.

As much as it had irked her to admit it, the braided one had made his point. She did care about Quatre. And if that meant dressing up in a hideous red outfit while pretending to care about other peoples' spawn, it seemed that was what she must do.

Though not without putting her own flair to things.

Quatre was dead positive despite his hopes to the contrary that Dorothy was not going to show up.

This of course did nothing to stop him throwing longing glances towards the waiting room's door as he adjusted his fake stomach for the thousandth time.

"Now there's a sight sure to send all the society wives aflutter."

The dark chuckle that accompanied this statement sent a shiver of pleasure down Quatre's spine and turning with a bright smile to comment, he lost all ability to talk as he stood in awe at the sight of her.

The dress his company had sent to her had been akin to the one he was wearing. Better than a mall Santa's but not by much.

What she was wearing was not what was sent by any means.

The sleeves were long and tapered. The bodice clung in all the right ways and the skirt flowed into a small train.

It was red but somehow a richer red than the normal Santa color, and the white fur cuffs and trim looked like the purest snow.

Her hair was gathered up in a braided bun with a white fur headband forming a type of halo around it,(though that may have just been Quatre's vision) and her collar bone was delicately bare.

The sight altogether filled him with a variety of thoughts, many of which were un-shareable among polite company, and with a hard gulp he tried to find his tongue to voice a shareable one.

Dorothy merely cocked her head to one side as he fumbled for words.

Sauntering over to him she planted her hands on his shoulders and placing a soft kiss on his cheek said in a loving yet smug tone.

"Merry Christmas, Quatre."


End file.
